


I Never Knew...

by Cottage_whore_xX



Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Biphobia, Child Abuse, Emma gets a good dad part one, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Self Harm, forgetting to take meds, getting kicked out for being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottage_whore_xX/pseuds/Cottage_whore_xX
Summary: Emma Perkins is in a chronic panic.And life doesn't want to ease up on her
Relationships: Henry Hidgens & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	I Never Knew...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!! I've been working on this for a bit and I thought I should publish it because I think y'all would like to know I can write happy shit and not just depression. So enjoy!!! I also wrote parts of this as a vent instead of just relapsing again or actually confronting my problems head-on. Because projecting my issues onto fictional characters is more helpful than actually opening up about my actual problems. so yeah,,, enjoy!!!!

“Em did you take your meds?” Emma sighed, handing Paul his keys as a desperate attempt to speed up his interrogation.

“Yes, Paul, I took my meds.” She rolled her eyes, looking back down at the game she was playing.

“Did you check back in with Amanda? Remember, she wanted to know how you were doing today? She said that at yesterday’s appointment?” Emma nodded again. 

“Amanda knows I’m fine, I don’t need to check-in.” Paul sighed.

“Emma, she wanted you to check-in. You have to check-in.” Emma rubbed her eyes, yawning softly. “Remember? Daily check-in? You put it in that app you have? What was it called?” Emma grumbled.

“I’ll do it later, just let me enjoy my coffee!” She complained, glaring at Paul.

“Well, Amanda wants to know that you’ve slept, that you’ve taken your meds and that you don’t want to kill yourself. And don’t lie to her again, I know it’s hard to tell her the truth but if you keep on lying about your feelings we won’t get anywhere!” Paul walked over, crouching down to her level. He gently brushed the hair out of her face, looking into those big, brown eyes he loved so much. He looked at her face noticing how tired and stressed her eyes had started to look. Every so often her pupil would twitch and then she would just take another sip of coffee. Paul sighed, hopelessly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Emma, how long has it been since you’ve slept?” Emma shrugged, drowning herself in coffee. Paul sighed again. “Get some sleep before your classes, okay?” He leaned in, kissing her forehead gently. Emma kept her same deadpan expression, taking another sip. Emma had large, dark circles surrounding her eyes. Honestly, she thought she was fine. She didn’t want to sleep, in fact, she really couldn’t sleep. She just didn’t want Paul to find out. She thought that maybe if she kept it all up long enough, she’d just die and he’d never suspect a thing. Paul looked into her eyes again. “Emma, are you high?” She shook her head. “It’s just, your eyes are really red, are you sure you’ve been sleeping enough?” Emma hesitated, thinking about telling him, but not wanting to know the reaction he’d have. She nodded, making Paul sigh again. “I swear you’re gonna work yourself to death one of these days…” Emma just nodded, his words going in one ear and out the other. Paul sighed again, grabbing his computer bag and walking out to the car. Emma was two seconds from passing out, her Five-Hour Energy, Monster, Red Bull, coffee cocktail was starting to wear off, making Emma crash, and crash hard at that. She finished her cup, not even bothering to put it on the table. The mug slipped out of her hands, dropping to the floor. The ceramic shattered, making Emma flinch, waking her up more than the coffee ever could. Emma curled up more, too scared to get up, worried that something would happen. Emma couldn’t even bring herself to shut her eyes, terrified of what she would see if she did. Emma held her legs tighter, burying her face in her knees. She sniffled softly, trying not to cry as she rocked herself back and forth. Dead terrified she was in danger. Her heart was racing, it wasn’t from her shitty cocktail this time.

Life with her dad wasn’t ever a picnic. Dealing with the pain of being the youngest was hard enough, but it was even harder when your parents didn’t love you. Emma wasn’t the only child, but she certainly wasn’t as loved as Jane. Jane, the star student, the model child, the perfect citizen. And then there was Emma, the fuck up, the accident, the mistake. Emma could never forget what she was to her parents. It’s hard to forget that you’re just a fuck up when it’s yelled in your face when you’re being beaten within inches of your life and you can’t defend yourself. Emma hates thinking about what her dad would do. The beatings, the stench of alcohol that haunts her to this day, the yelling. Emma moved her hands, covering her ears, she slammed her eyes, the tears dripping down her face. Hearing the obnoxious ringtone that was set specifically for Paul just made her feel worse. She squeezed her head tighter, struggling to catch her breath. The memories flooding her brain, making her cry out.

Emma just got home, walking ever so slightly behind Jane and her group of friends that she was going to have over today. Jane was a teenager and Emma was exactly six years old. Emma has just failed her math test, she knew it. But she hoped her parents didn’t. But of course, they did, they just found out this past morning on a call with Emma’s teacher. Jane walked in, with Emma close behind. Jane and her friends disappeared up to her room, laughing and smiling. It was moments like this Emma wished she had friends. But she didn’t. Which left Emma all alone with her parents. Her dad was sitting in the kitchen, surrounded by empty bottles and a multitude of baggies. Some filled with what young Emma thought was powdered sugar and grass, others completely empty with residue left over.

“Perkins. Get your ass over here.” Her dad spat, taking another sip of his beer. Emma hesitantly walked forward, looking down. She didn’t look like her dad at all, not a single feature resembled him. Sure she looked like her mom, but it was clear that he was not her dad. “I got a call from Mrs. Anderson today. What do you think she said?”

“That I’ve been doing really well and she’s proud of me?” Her dad broke the empty beer bottle on the table, shattering half of it, making her flinch. 

“You know damn well that’s not it. Why the fuck did you fail your math test!” He stood up, stalking over to Emma. He towered over Emma, which was already scary enough. 

“I… I don’t know…” she spoke smally, looking down again. Her dad threw the bottle at the floor.

“Bull shit!” Emma flinched at the yell, her lip quivering as the tears threatened to spill down her face. “Oh don’t you even start with me!” He grabbed her little wrist, throwing her to the floor with minimal effort on his part. Emma wouldn’t dare fight back. She was too tiny anyways, she was a tiny, underfed first-grader, with no actual strength. Maybe that’s why she was failing Gym. The poor thing couldn’t even manage to pull herself up on the apparatus that was installed for the winter months. “If you don’t start putting effort into your schoolwork you’re gonna end up being a whore just like your mother! Do you fucking want that!” He screamed in her face, watching Emma squirm away and cry harder. “Do you! Do you want to be known for selling your body for whatever scum you come into contact with?!” He screamed louder, pulling her up by the wrist, screaming in her face. His breath reeked of beer, making Emma cringe. “Answer me!” He growled, striking her across the face. Emma whimpered again, shaking her head. He pushed her back, her back hitting the counter behind her. She hissed softly, rubbing her wrists. Her dad sat back down at the small table near the corner of the room. “Be useful for once and get me a beer.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, watching Emma scramble to her feet and rush to the fridge. She wrapped her tiny little hands around the bottle, bringing it to him, stumbling over and nearly tripping over a loose tile on the floor. He grabbed the bottle opener, popping the cap off the second bottle, letting it drop to the floor. “You’re in big trouble, miss Perkins.” He mumbled, taking a sip. He grabbed her by the arm. Emma tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. He just took her little arm, putting his beer down. He put his hands on either side of her elbow, bending it back in a way an elbow shouldn’t bend. He forced the arm back to make it look normal because there was no way Emma could miss school again. Emma screamed, sobbing louder. The screaming just didn’t stop, nor did the wailing and crying. He kicked her in the stomach, the boot knocking the air out of her little body. She collapsed on the floor. Coughing loudly. He stomped on her little chest. “Shut up!” Emma could hear her rib crack under the pressure of his heavy boot. She gasped out for air, trying to crawl away from her dad. He stomped on her hand, hearing her joints crack in the most inhumane way, making her wail out louder. He pulled his foot off of her, glaring at Emma as her mom walked into the room. Emma whimpered softly, just curling into a little ball to the best of her abilities. But knowing her dad, she wouldn’t be let off the hook this easily. “You think I’m going to let you flunk your classes and sell your body off just like your mom?!” He screamed, stomping on her calf. Emma cried out louder, shrieking in agony. “Who would even want to have sex with you? You’re disgusting, no one could even love that hideous face of yours. That’s probably why your mother wanted to abort you because she knew she’d be raising a fucking disgrace! I should have let her abort you! I thought you’d be like your sister!” He grabbed the beer bottle, breaking it over her shoulder and stomping away. Leaving Emma a shaking mess, clutching her shoulder and sobbing on the cold, dingy tile floor of their kitchen.

Paul had gotten really worried since Emma hadn’t picked up his or the professor’s calls, in fact, she didn’t even end up going to class. Paul eventually left work, noticing that Emma wasn’t at Beanies, nor has she shown up at all today. Paul went back home, to check if everything was alright, the possibilities of what could have happened to her flooding his mind and he sped home. 

When he walked into the house all he heard was violent, muffled sobbing, like someone was clearly in a state of distress. Paul carefully walked into the living room, where the first thing he saw was the shattered chunks of white ceramic on the floor. Paul, immediately assumed the worst had happened and ran into the living room, faster than he ever had. But upon entering, he didn’t see what he expected to see, thankfully. He just saw Emma, curled up into a ball, clutching the elbow she broke in the first grade and sobbing. Paul was glad it wasn’t what he thought it was going to be. He was glad that Emma was murdered with her coffee mug or poisoned, but that didn’t worry him any less. He carefully walked up to Emma, knowing that fast and loud normally scared the shit out of Emma. Paul pushed the ceramic into a small pile, making room for him to kneel beside her. He heard Emma mumble out a few ‘I’m sorry, I’ll try harder’s making him slowly realize what was going on. He could hear her choke on her own air, sobbing louder. She was struggling to breathe, taking quick breaths as an attempt to keep herself from passing out.

“Emma? Babe’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you…” Paul gently put a hand on her back, as a desperate attempt to ground her. Emma flinched, leaning into his touch ever so slightly. Paul gently rubbed her back. “There you go, you’re okay…” Emma was still hyperventilating, crying harder. Emma’s shirt was stuck to her skin with sweat as if she had just run a marathon. “I was so worried, why didn’t you answer my calls?” Emma looked at him. She didn’t even realize he had called. She looked at her phone seeing ten missed calls, five from ‘Pauly-Poo’ and five from ‘Dude Gandalf’ which was Hidgens stupid, but funny contact. “I’m guessing you forgot to take your meds and forgot to text Amanda…” Paul sighed. Gently taking the phone from Emma. He called Amanda, explaining that Emma wasn’t okay and that he didn’t know what to do for her. Eventually, Paul hung up, taking Emma upstairs to their room. “Amanda said you need to sleep. Or else you’re gonna start hallucinating, she said that not sleeping for nearly two days is incredibly unhealthy. I’ll bring your meds up in a second okay?” Emma nodded, curling back up into a ball. By the time he left everything was setting back in as Emma frantically tried to catch her breath again, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. Paul came back up and just sighed, placing the glass of water and two pill bottles on the table. “Emma? Breathe with me?” He helped her sit up, counting to ten before letting his breath go and repeating the process until Emma was better. He held her tight and Emma naturally lowered her head until her ear was in line with his heart, letting her listen to his soft, steady heartbeat. Paul stroked her hair gently, feeling her wrap her arms around his torso. Emma didn’t look up at him, eventually falling asleep against him. This was something Paul could live with for a while until his legs started falling asleep and he remembered she had medicine to take. Paul gently woke Emma up. She made a soft little noise, looking up at him, her big, brown eyes looking ultimately too tired to stay open, gently meeting his pale blue eyes. “Baby, you have to take your antidepressants, okay?” Emma grumbled. 

“Later.” She settled back into her sleeping spot until he got up.

“No, not later. Now.” Paul handed her two pills, one from each bottle, and the glass of water. Emma popped one of the pills Inter her mouth, taking a sip of water. “Did you swallow it?” Emma nodded, popping the other pill into her mouth and finishing off the glass. Emma looked at Paul. “Good job… you’re doing good…” he smiled, playing with her hair. Emma let out a soft little hum as he continued to mess with her hair. He sat back down, letting Emma sit on his lap. Emma wrapped her legs around him, pressing her head against his chest. Emma tilted her head up, wanting him to kiss her. Paul looked down as his girlfriend, smiling widely. He gently pecked her lips, letting Emma readjust and get back into her sleeping position as he laid back. Paul was definitely a lot cuddlier than Emma ever would be. So whenever the trauma set in he knew that Emma was going to hold him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling off the earth. Emma wrapped her legs around Paul, squeezing him like a boa constrictor trying to kill its prey. He let out a strangled sound, patting her on the head.    
“Easy, there, I’m not going anywhere…” He smiled, feeling her loosen her grip. “There you go…” Paul chuckled, petting her hair until she fell asleep against him. Paul smiled, hugging her gently, but what Paul couldn’t see was the war going on in Emma’s mind.

Emma couldn’t hide her arm and her parents wouldn’t let her stay home. They knew CPS would be called because of her absences and their house was in no condition for Child Protective Services to visit. Emma would get taken away, for sure. Clearly, her dad wanted to know who was getting her and make sure that they wouldn’t give her anything she needed. According to him, she didn’t deserve it. 

It was winter in Hatchetfield and dear god it was cold. Emma would just be pushed out of the house and pushed into the brutal cold while Jane was coddled and driven to school. Hell, half the time, Emma wouldn’t have anything warm to wear and would go out in last season's outfits. If Emma didn’t have jeans, there was no fucking way she could walk downstairs wearing leggings without getting called a whore and beating down by her dad. Even from the ripe age of six, Emma wasn’t safe from his scrutiny.

She made it to school, freezing beyond belief and numb. She sat in her little desk, looking at the teacher with the most broken look staining her eyes. She just ruined her life, but it’s not like Mrs. Anderson knew that. After the first bell rang she announced that there would be a guest speaker visiting all of the first-grade classrooms. Emma hoped it was a cop who could help her out of the situation she was in, but when would anything go Emma’s way. A scrawny, little college-aged scientist walked in. Emma had to admit that if she had a dad, this is what she’d want him to look like. Like Professor Utonium from the Power Puff Girls. A show Emma’s never seen, but from what she has seen from watching over Jane’s shoulder, he feels like a good dad.

The man was really nice to Emma. She thought he was funny and liked most of the experiments he did. He definitely wasn’t as boring as a normal scientist. 

It was time for recess. Emma normally sat on the sidelines and played with grass, no one bothering to talk to her or generally be near her, but today would be different. Emma went up to Hidgens instead of going outside. They talked and talked and talked until he noticed her arm, hanging limply by her side. Him being someone with a doctorate, knew that there was something wrong with her arm, something  _ horribly _ wrong with her arm.

“Young lady is there something wrong with your arm?” Emma looked up at him, looking down at the floor. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, She quickly wiped them away as Hidgens crouched down to her level. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…” he gently rubbed her uninjured arm. He sat her down at a desk, walking across the room to grab a pen and a few sheets of paper. He gently placed the pen near her. “You can just write it, okay? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to sweetie…” Emma slowly picked up the pen, her hand shaking gently as she slowly wrote him a message, wanting to hide it all, but the pain in her arm was too great. Hidgens took the note, reading over the little paragraph. He just looked at her, hugging her, almost as if he understood. He didn’t want to say anything, he didn’t need to. He took her by the hand, leading her to the nurse.

They wanted to call CPS, but Emma wouldn’t talk. Emma won’t talk about it still. Flash forward to sophomore year of high school. Emma Perkins was failing most of her classes except for biology, which she was privately being tutored in by Hidgens. Her dad hadn’t seen her grades yet, but he had found the notecard with Hidgens phone number on it, and he was pissed. Emma walked through the door, taking her bag upstairs. She was met upstairs by her dad, her mom sobbing on her bed as her dad was holding the notecard. Her mom was mumbling about this being the start and how Emma needed to be brought to a church or else she’d turn out like her. Emma’s mom hasn’t been doing too well, her heath had been taking a toll on her mental state making all the shitty things that brought her to where she is today spill out into daily life. The drugs couldn’t mask the pain anymore, her existence starting to get unbearable. Emma wondered if this is where she inherited her depression and anxiety from. She plopped her back on the floor, opening her mouth to say something, but immediately being silenced by her father’s loud, booming voice. 

“Who’s fucking number is it?” He stalked closer, waving the card in her face. Emma backed up until she hit the wall, looking for anything she could use to fight back or distract him. “I said who is he!” He screamed making Emma flinch. 

“He’s just a friend!” Emma's mom cried out louder, burying her face in her sleeves. Emma could feel hot tears of her own forming in her eyes, choking them back as an attempt to regain control. If she started crying now, he’d never listen. Not like he’d listen anyway. He smacked her, watching as she crumbled beneath him. He kept beating her, using the bible against her in every way he could. By the end of all of this, Emma was left beaten to a bloody, bruised pulp on the side of the highway at the beginning of a harsh Hatchetfield winter.

People solicited her, people threw things at her, but no one would give her a home to stay in, until one fateful morning.

It was a morning just like any other, Emma, was sleeping on the dewy, frozen ground right beside interstate 9, cars came and went, some stopped, others didn’t. She was still sleeping by the time she heard a familiar voice. 

“Emma? Good god! What the hell happened to you?!” Hidgens crouched beside the girl, who just lazily looked up at him and shrugged. Hidgens immediately went into protective helicopter mom mode. Now, Emma told Hidgens her dad was bad. He knew her dad was bad, he just didn’t think he was this bad. Emma hugged Hidgens, just wanting to go home to… somewhere. Emma had been over to his house, mostly to study and drink tea. Hidgens would tell her all about the project he was working on ‘Workin’ Boys: A New Musical’. Emma offered him advice and often helped choreograph some of the pre-established musical numbers. “Emma, do you need to go to the hospital?” Emma just nodded weakly, not having the strength to stand on her own without Hidgens’s support. He helped her into the car, sitting her down in the passenger's seat. He turned up the radio playing some depressing musical which lyrics seemed to suit Emma well. Hidgens has told her about this show, it was that one with the war, and the barricade, and the man who stole the loaf of bread. But Emma didn’t remember the name. She decided to break the silence, her voice small and hoarse, but still there. 

“Hey, Hidgens? What’s the name of this song?” Hidgens kept his eyes on the road, knowing everything about broadway in agonizing detail off the top of his head. 

“I Dreamed a Dream, Les Miz. Why? Do you like Les Mis?” Emma shrugged. 

“I dunno, I think I just like this song…” he smiled, finally arriving at the hospital.

Emma left the bedroom, hoping Paul wouldn’t stop her. It was way too late, he surely wasn’t up by now. She snuck around the kitchen until she found the silverware. She thought she was alone until the light turned on, revealing a very tired Paul. 

“Emma? What are you doing?” The scene Paul was exposed to was Emma standing over the sink, steak knife halfway down her wrist. He paused as she scrambled to hide the knife and her wrists. “Emma?” He walked forward as she scrambled away from him. Paul knew he fucked up and decided to soften his tone. “Hey, Emma, it’s okay, I just want to know what happened, maybe I can help?” Emma had never told Paul about how she ended up at Hidgens house, he just knew that she lived there. Emma held her wrist closer to herself. “Emma, can I see your wrist?” Oh shit, Paul had never seen any of her scars, not a one. She hesitated before offering her arm to him. Paul tried not to show any pity, but he just winced. She went to pull away. “Hey! Hey, no, no, it’s okay, you’re okay… uh…” he held her hand as he led himself to the paper towels. He grabbed a few, dabbing at the blood from the open wounds. “Yeah, that’s it…” he smiled, noticing he was slowly making progress. “What happened Emmy?” He looked up at her, keeping everything gentle, trying slowly to gain her trust.

“I don’t want to say it, you’ll think I’m weak…” he sighed.

“I could never think you’re weak, Emmy… hell, I’ll show you something if it makes you feel any better?” Emma was intrigued, she looked at him. “You want to see?” Emma nodded as he led her to the couch. He sat her down, slowly pulling down his pants. Emma for once didn’t focus on the sexual side of this like she normally would, but what he was saying as he explained the near-perfect linear scars carved into his thighs. She could listen to him talk for hours, even if the topic matter was this upsetting.

“I never knew, Paul…” she looked up at him, watching him pull his pants up.

“You’re the only person who does…” he sat beside her. Emma snuggled up with him. Letting him wrap his arm around her. Emma sighed, telling him everything, the nightmare that started it all, the recent one, the start of her self harm problems, and he just listened, he didn’t interject or make comments. He just listened to it all, and when she was done talking, he wrapped her in a tight, comforting hug. Emma buried her face in the crook of Paul’s neck, taking in the scent of his cologne. Paul Matthews was the only man on earth who could make her feel this way, no one could ever make Emma Perkins soft. Paul liked being her shoulder to cry on, if she would ever cry in front of him. He could feel her starting to cry, he could hear her starting to cry. It was weird being there to see her cry, to feel her shaking in his arms. To take in a whole other side of Emma. Paul didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do and now he was frightened. He slowly grabbed his phone, texting Hidgens. Paul sighed as Hidgens told him he’d be leaving in a few and heading over there for Emma. Paul just sighed, placing his phone on the bed. She tended, hugging him tighter. As tight as her arms would let her. He just slowly started to rub her back, whispering encouragement in her ear. It really didn’t seem to be working. She couldn’t catch her breath, and Hidgens barging in sure didn’t calm her down anymore. He walked over, tapping Paul on the shoulder. 

“I’ll take her from here, Paul…” Paul nodded, letting go of Emma. Emma got a little panicky before moving onto hugging Hidgens. He rubbed her back, shushing her slowly. He slowly started with the breathing techniques, which seemed to do the job. Once Emma wasn’t a sobbing mess he pulled away. “What was it this time dear?” Emma took in a shallow breath.

“Dad… and the arm injury, and the whole living on the side of the road thing…” he sighed, engulfing her in another hug.

“Well, that bastard is long gone. You’re safe now, we got you. And I know Paul wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. Isn’t that right?” He glared at Paul, this answer determining everything about their future. Paul walked closer, resting a hand in Emma’s back.

“Of course. No one can hurt you as long as I’m here…” they both smiled for different reasons, Emma slowly starting to calm down. 

“Do you want me to spend the night? I can man the fort while you two are sleeping?” She chuckled, smiling. 

“That would be nice, but don’t you need to sleep?”

“It’s fine! Emma, I’d rather know your okay then sleep.” He smiled, looking at Paul. “Young man, can I talk to you?” Paul pointed at himself before following Hidgens out. 

See, Paul was terrified. He was horrible at this and this is her  _ dad _ talking to him. Emma’s dad that he had rarely talked with.

“You’re marrying her. You’re absolutely going to marry my daughter.” Paul froze dead in his tracks.

“I, uh… what?” He just stared.

“You know how to treat her, you’re a good man, Paul.” He smiled. “But, only on one condition. You hurt her in any way, and you will never see the light of day. You break her heart and you won’t see another day. She is the best you’ll ever get, and so help me god if I hear that you did something to my daughter. I know people. I have connections. Watch your back.” His entire tone shifted. “Understand?” Paul nodded hesitantly, dead terrified of him. Hidgens smiled. “Perfect! You can go, young man…”

Paul walked back to Emma, looking at her.

“So uh, I think you’re dad is threatening me to marry you?”


End file.
